The Black Hands Chapter Files
by Lucreace
Summary: A hundred prompts, a hundred short stories and vignettes based around the Black Hand Space Marine Chapter. Part of a challenge I am working on with Danceofthedead.
1. 79 - I heard you the first time

The fighting had been gruelling, and extensive. Instead of the quick shock attack and rapid victory, they had been pinned down by an enemy far more organised than they had expected. The squad had been separated from the rest of the unit, who kept in distant touch via the vox connection, which was shaky at best. The crackling noise was lost underneath the more pressing sound of gunfire and explosions.

Polonus and Taran peered around the scrap of building they were using for cover, taking a glance at the approaching enemy. There were rather a lot of them and only four squad members left. Although falling back did not sit well with any of them, it seemed like the only choice they currently had. Polonus gestured for the other two, Solabus and Viras to begin the move back to the rest of the company. There was no argument.

The moment the others moved back, Polonus open fired at the oncoming enemy. Taran did the same. The noise cut off everything else. A wave of aliens fell under their fire. He did not stop shooting. For a moment, it looked as though everything was going to go according to plan. The sound of bolter fire behind them made him stop firing. A quick signal to Taran and it was their turn to move backwards. Bursts of fire shot over their heads as they darted back behind their brothers. When they had covered a decent distance, they turned, aimed and fired at the approaching enemy.

Disaster struck on the third rotation. They had been seen by their reinforcements, who were taking aim, allowing the four of them to move back to the rest of second company. It was in the final moments that a huge explosion churned up the earth below them all. Taran took the brunt of the blast; Polonus watched as his brother was flung like nothing more than a ragdoll into the air. The ceramite plates were bent into interesting shapes; he could see blood glistening on the dark blue plates. He landed awkwardly on the floor. Taran did not move.

The screams of his brothers echoed around him as Polonus darted to his fallen comrade. He was at his side in moments, looking for any sign of life. He was no apothecary, that role belonged to his fallen friend, "I didn't give you leave to rest," he muttered. He screwed up his fist and hit it against the mangled chest piece of his friend's armour. There was no movement, Polonus had seen battle-brothers die from less grievous wounds and an unfamiliar sensation washed through him.

Viras appeared at his side, "We'll drag him back," he said. Polonus nodded and gripped his left shoulder plate in his gauntleted hand. Viras took the right and together, they managed to haul the prone apothecary back to the awaiting transport. The sound of gunfire ceased. Taran had not moved since he had been dumped on the floor. Viras moved off leaving Polonus alone.

"Come on!" he hissed, not willing to accept that his long term friend and brother was going to expire because of some heretic's grenade, "No time for resting," he said. He gave Taran's shoulder guard a shake for effect.

There was a groan. Taran's hand twitched, "Heard you the first time," he muttered in a cracked voice. An unlooked for smile broke out onto Polonus' face and he bit back a laugh. He was alive! "Were you worried?" he asked.

"You had me for a moment," he said. He could imagine the smile on Taran's face when he said that, knowing he would never live it down. At that moment, he didn't care. "Can you stand?"

Taran sat up then, another groan escaping him as he did so. Not one to let something as simple as being blown up stop him, he then got to his feet. He looked a state, parts of his power armour were heavily damaged, his helmet was cracked and there was a large chunk of his kneepad missing. Polonus watched as he staggered up to where he was leaning at the entrance to the transport, "Did we win?" he asked. Polonus nodded.

"For now," he replied, knowing there would always be another fight.


	2. 94 - Fight or Flight

Julia had been around Astartes her entire life. Her father was the ordinator of the house, responsible for organising and maintaining the roles of the various chapter serfs who lived and worked alongside the Black Hands. She had been educated and had lived a relatively comfortable life all things considered and she was grateful for her position of honour within the chapter. She had read about some of the worlds within the Imperium, she knew she was in a good position. Throne! She had seen parts of Hazhim, her home, and that was bad enough!

She knelt down on the floor of the Reclusiam without the presence of Chief Chaplain Dominicus Thoss, ensuring it was as clean as it could be. It was not her favourite job to do but it was one that needed to be done. In here were the Chapter relics; ancient tokens and weapons that had brought about the destruction of the Emperor's many enemies in battle. There was always a sacred hush in this place, as if the artefacts themselves demanded the respect of all those that dared enter here. She felt as though the sound of her brush on the floor was too much for this place and she worked all the more diligently for it. Even her breathing was taken in measured, silent breaths.

The light in the Reclusiam was stretched, not quite reaching the high vaulted ceiling which reached up into darkness. It wasn't exactly gloomy where she was working but nor was it bright. She didn't mind, she had no fear of the dark; it was what lurked in the light that she was afraid of. Pushing the brush into the recesses of the corner, she found herself reflecting on that. It was a strange concept for her to wrap her head around – being unable to feel fear.

She had plenty of things that made her anxious; not getting her jobs done fast enough, upsetting Captain Adas had certainly caused her blood to run cold, especially when she was younger and unaware of his often fractious temper. She could well remember the time he had hurled the tray she had come to retrieve from him at her; she still had the scar on her shoulder where it had caused a nasty wound. She remembered the true fear of learning their Chapter Master had been grievously wounded battling tyranids. How her stomach had turned to ice and her knees had buckled when she had been informed of the news. Her father had caught her and comforted her in those moments.

She could not understand what it must be like to not feel those emotions. She had nothing but respect for the Guardians of Mankind but she did not understand them. She doubted that she ever would. As she had been told many a time before, obedience did not require understanding. Leaning forward, she swept the miniscule bits of dust into the pan before straightening up, it was time to head to Adas' arming chamber and give it the same treatment. Dismissing her thoughts, she left the sacred place to its secrets, there was work to be done after all!


End file.
